Unrest

Caught in the lock down the whole town
has to stay right where it is.
Professionals with clubs walk in big lines
to herd those with the sense to run
back to where they’re fleeing from.
A flower shop front window is made into
a mess that cuts through people’s shoes
and massacres their feet.
A church at the edge of the shutdown
washes their blood encrusted soles,
and collects tolls from all believers
claiming with just a bit more cash
god would find a way to set them free forever.
They burn up splintered wood together
and go against the weather that gets colder
every gust of wind against them.
They wish the end would happen now
instead of this dragged out waste
of time where the powerful pretend
that they care about the people
drinking water mixed with ash
straight from the storm drains.

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